


Nathan Young's Guide to Getting Your Man

by lugubrious



Series: canon can fuck right off [1]
Category: Misfits (TV 2009)
Genre: First Time, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, brief sexual assault mention, death mention, frank and uncomfortable conversations for Everyone, with these eleven easy steps you too could wrangle your own handsome shark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 00:04:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17253881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lugubrious/pseuds/lugubrious
Summary: Nathan spouting love for Simon under the influence of a magical tattoo? Concerning. Nathan hitting on him sound-of-mind? Frankly disturbing. But Simon makes do.





	Nathan Young's Guide to Getting Your Man

**Author's Note:**

> first ever simon/nathan fic, possibly not the last who can say? anyway they're dumb but i love them

‘Nathan’s been acting… weird.’

Unsurprisingly, Simon doesn’t get much of a reaction to this. He tries again.

‘Weird _er_.’

Kelly takes a sip from her drink and raises an eyebrow. ‘What’s he doin’?’

There’s an empty wheelchair next to her; Simon sits down in it - heavily - and levels her with a look of despair that, given who it's attached to, isn't unusual, but is no less heart wrenching. Kelly cracks her knuckles.

‘Is he fuckin’ with you again?’

‘I think… he’s _flirting_ with me.’

‘Oh. _Oh._ ’ Kelly nods; sips; waits; Simon smooths his fringe down. She hasn’t seen him do that for a while, the twat must have really rattled him. ‘What happened?’

Looking a little lost for words, Simon shrugs. ‘He’s just… he’s trying to be nice to me.’

This is alarming. It took a while for Kelly to start prodding at the memories left over post-virtue-cult but she did it eventually, every painful, frank second of it. Including Nathan’s best attempt at complimenting her, telling her he liked her the way she was and how, with his level of emotional constipation, he only managed to do so with the help of a barrage of insults.

‘I already asked if he has another tattoo and he said he does, but it’s on his arse… and then he asked me if I wanted to take a look.’ Simon sets his jaw. ‘I said no.’ He glances at Kelly. ‘D’you think he’s messing with me?’

‘Actually, I don’t.’

There’s a beat.

‘Are you saying,’ Simon says, sounding even less happy than he had before, ‘that Nathan Young has a crush on me?’

Kelly shrugs. ‘Sorry mate. Happens to the best of us.’

‘I thought you two were seeing each other?’

‘We almost were, but after the tattoo thing we decided not to go for it. I tried kissing him and everythin’, yeah, but it felt dead weird. Not sexy at all.’ She pats Simon’s back. ‘Sorry.’

‘So… what do I do?’

Kelly shrugs again. Sips her drink. ‘Well, d’you like ‘im?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Then I’d start by figurin’ tha’ out, mate.’

She gives him another pat and gets to her feet to find the dickhead, leaving Simon alone on the wheelchair. _Stupid willowy bastard_.

 

_STEP ONE: admit you like the freak_

 

‘I’m not a gay! Look at me!’

Kelly rolls her eyes.

‘You sure abou’ tha’?’

‘I’m about 98% certain. Would you like me to prove it to you?’

‘Go on, then.’

Nathan being who he is, there is no sudden lack of bravado in the look he levels her with, just a raising of the eyebrows that would translate to ‘rabbit in headlights,’ on a normal person. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah, go for it.’

There’s a pause in which Kelly watches Nathan, half smiling.

‘You know I can read minds, yeah?’

‘Right.’

‘So.’

‘So.’

Nathan groans. ‘Are you really gonna make me say it?’

‘Here.’ She leans in and kisses him, and instantly Nathan kisses right back. Commits. But within moments, Kelly is pulling away, looking oddly smug.

‘So, are you feelin’ anythin’?’

‘Well-’

‘Cause for me, yeah, it feels all weird. Like I’m kissin’ my cousin or somethin’. So now d’you wanna be honest with me and tell me - d’you really wanna get with me?’

Nathan sighs. Rolls over. He and Kelly lie side by side on the mattress.

‘I did fancy you,’ he says, quiet like. Sincerity has never been a strong suit, but if anyone deserves it - ‘y’know. For a minute there.’

‘I know.’ She pats his arm. ‘Somethings things just don’t work out.’

‘Alright, Jeremy.’

‘Prick.’

‘Yeah. I’m a right prick.’

‘A gay prick.’

‘I thought we’d been through this.’ Nathan points towards himself with a flourish. ‘Not gay.’

‘Well, then what? ‘Cause you’ve obviously got a thing for Simon.’

‘Ah, look, d’we have to talk about that? Can’t I just live my life in blissful repressed ignorance and ignore any gay feelings I may or may not have for Starey McGee?’

Kelly snorts. ‘Starey McGee?’

‘Not my best work.’

‘Well, you might wanna think about that, yeah? And stop being such a twat to him if you like him!’

‘Ah that’s just part of my charm.’

Kelly rolls her eyes. Then she gets to her feet, grinning down at Nathan, and all that tension between them from the past couple of weeks - every since they dug him up from the grave - is just, pfut, gone. He takes her offered hand and pulls himself up, groaning loudly.

‘These old bones, I tell ya.’

‘You’re twenty.’

‘And wise beyond my years.’

‘Shut up.’ Kelly says. ‘Go steal some more beer.’

‘Bossy.’ He jumps down the stairs and lands on the community centre floor; looks up to see her leaning over the railing.

‘Get two for me, yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And Nathan? I’m bein’ serious. If you like Simon, you have to stop being such an arsehole to ‘im, alright?’

Nathan nods, solemn. ‘Scouts honour.’   

 

_STEP 2: flirt_

 

Nathan is one kick away from triumph when he feels a sharp pain on the back of his head. Jerking forward, he mistimes the kick and sends the little plastic football ricocheting into the side of the table.

‘What was that for?’

‘If I had to guess?’ Curtis says, not looking up from the table as he sends the ball spinning into Nathan’s goal. ‘Game.’

‘Fuck you,’ Nathan says, ‘that doesn’t count.’

‘I told you to stop bein’ a dick to ‘im!’

‘I’m not bein’ a ‘dick to ‘im,’,’ Nathan retorts. He kicks the football table hard enough so that it jolts a little to the right.

‘Such a prick.’

‘Re-match, yeah?’ Nathan gives Curtis the ‘I’m watching you,’ gesture and walks over to Kelly. ‘Anyway, I’ll have you know I’ve been nothing but a perfect gentleman for the past - how long have we been here?’

‘He just said you was actin’ ‘weird.’ You freaked ‘im aht.’

‘I did not.’

‘He doesn’t even know if he likes you back, yeah? So just let him sort that out himself before you get all intense and shit.’

‘Course he likes me! Everyone likes me. I’m loveable.’

Curtis, scrolling through his phone, scoffs, and Kelly slaps Nathan across the back of the head again.

‘Listen, dickhead. I’m warnin’ you.’

Nathan looks at her for a moment, unblinking. Grave. ‘Do you love him?’ he asks. She raises her hand again and he ducks out of the way, squeaking, ‘alright! Alright.’

‘What did you say to ‘im anyway?’  

‘Oh, y’know. Just gave him a few compliments. Boosted the ol’ ego. If there’s one thing Barry is in dire need of, it’s an ego boosting.’

Kelly squints. ‘I’m gonna need specifics.’

‘I said his eyes looked nice today, alright? The whole dead-fish thing is really workin’ for him.’

Making a violent exhalation of air that means she’s had e-fucking-nough with Nathan’s jackassery, Kelly stomps away, leaving him with Curtis, who’s given up pretending like he isn’t eavesdropping. After a shared look, the two of them make their way towards the door, walking in the same direction as Kelly. 

‘A tip, yeah?’ Curtis says into the silence, smirking. ‘People don’t really like it when you say they look like a dead fish.’

‘Hey, thanks man. I’ll be sure to remember that next time I feel like gettin’ into a sexless relationship.’

Curtis rolls his eyes.

 

_STEP THREE: flirt_

 

Nathan’s never really tried wooing anyone before. Normally his best move is balls-on-the-table-honesty, but unfortunately when Simon is involved his honesty sounds a lot like mockery, so he has to hang that one up for the time being. It ends up being oddly rewarding though, after the novelty wears off and Simon stops gaping at him all the time - Nathan even manages to coax out a few smiles. Which isn’t surprising, really. He’s a master of seduction. A wizard of charisma, and quick wit, and -        

‘Barry! Fancy a shag?’

 

_STEP FOUR: flirt some more_

 

‘Oi! Barry!’ Nathan crows. He’s pointing to a crudely drawn graffiti penis being inserted into an even cruder ass. ‘How about it?’

Simon’s response is cut short as Kelly grabs Nathan by the ear and yanks him down, hisses -    

 

_STEP FIVE: just walk him home and ask him out already, ya dick!_

 

It’s not until Alisha and Curtis are long gone, with Kelly doing her best to follow them, that Nathan leans against Simon’s locker, arms crossed.

‘So.’

Almost as though the word is a dismissal, Kelly shoulders her bag and walks out of the room with a nod to Nathan and a _look_ at Simon that’s part warning, part encouragement.

‘Barry. You headed home?’

‘Yeah.’ Simon blinks. He’s not as frigid anymore, not as ‘buttons done up all the way to the top,’ but he can still be a twitchy little bastard sometimes, Nathan thinks.  He grins.

‘I’ll walk you.’   

 

_STEP SIX: or, y’know. Improvise._

 

‘You don’t have to-’ Simon clears his throat. ‘Alright.’  

It’s not a long walk, none of them live too far out from the community centre, but it does take them into the richer area of Wertham. All the houses are two storey and they have huge windows, Nathan keeping up a running commentary as they pass families having dinner and watching tv, all that usual wet, domestic shite. Eventually Nathan turns his back on it and looks over at Simon.  

‘So,’ he says, ‘What kind of house d’you live in, anyway? I mean, what sort of environment is conducive to the creation of a deranged arsonist virgin? A sexy deranged arsonist virgin,’ he amends, throwing a hand around Simon’s shoulder. Simon doesn’t push his arm off, Nathan notices. Simon says,

‘A white one.’

‘Yeah? Maybe I should have a go at filmin’. Capture you in your natural habitat. Like a nature documentary. Or one of those late night specials where you get up close and personal with a serial killer.’ Nathan pulls his phone out of his pocket and points it at Simon. ‘Did you used to watch those for inspiration?’

But film is familiar ground for Simon, and he pulls out his own phone, starts recording Nathan right back.      

‘Did you watch the ones about k-kleptomaniac’s?’ he asks. Nathan whistles.

‘Not bad! A little shaky in the dismount, but you nailed that landin’. I’ll be nursin’ a bruise for quite some time.’ He’s thoughtful for a moment. ‘There was one of those klepto kids at my school, right before I fucked off. French mum, y’know. She was like a pencil with a coupla beanbags stickin’ out the front and back. Beautiful. The kinda girl teachers go to prison for.’

There’s not much Nathan could expect anyone to say in response to that, and after a few minutes he cuts Simon some slack, changes the subject.

‘Where’d you go to school anyway, Barry?’ he asks.

‘City of London.’  

‘Isn’t that an all boys school?’

Simon nods. He’s gone back and forth over the years about whether co-ed would have been good for him or not. But more often than not the only conclusion he’s come to is that _anywhere_ would have been better than CLS. Nathan whistles.  

‘Bummer. Sorry, man.’

‘We had female teachers though.’  

‘I’m guessin’ your sister is somewhere else. Unless your parents are determined to churn out as many sexually depraved munchkins as possible, in which case I’ll be the first to tell them they’re doin’ a fantastic job.’

Simon scowls. ‘Lucy isn’t sexually depraved.’ He pauses. ‘I’m not, either.’

‘Hang on, hang on.’

They’ve both stopped outside a house, presumably Simon’s, but for the moment Nathan has bigger fish to fry. Simon turns towards him.

‘Sexual depravity aside, are you tellin’ me that your sweet little baby sister has the same name as the psychopath who sucked you off and then almost got you arrested? The one who killed me?’  

‘It’s… short for Lucinda.’  

‘Jesus.’ He can’t hide the laughter in his voice even as he tries to pat Simon consolingly on the back. ‘Talk about unfortunate coincidences.’

Shrugging, Simon says, ‘we’re here, by the way.’  

‘Where?’

‘My house.’

‘Ah.’ Nathan turns. Looks up at it. ‘You sure, Barry? Cause this looks a lot like a regular house and not a supervillain’s lair.’

‘The lair’s in the garage.’ Simon smiles a little as Nathan snorts. And then suddenly Simon isn’t smiling, his mouth is kind of slack-jawed instead because Nathan just leaned in and pecked him, very chastely, right on the mouth. It’s a small thing, and Nathan pulls away in under a second to just stand there with his hands in his pockets. Smirking. Waiting. Watching as Simon opens his mouth and closes it again. But eventually, when a few more moments of silence have passed and it doesn’t look like Barry is close to moving, Nathan smirks wider and rocks back on his heels. Moves to walk back the way they’d come.

‘Night Barry.’   

He’s a few steps down the street when Simon says,

‘Get a drink with me tomorrow night?’

Nathan walks slowly back towards him; stops in front of Simon. He’s blinking, hard.

‘Are you askin’ me out on a date?’ Nathan says. Just like before, except this time he’s half-smiling. Simon licks his lips. Nods.  

‘Yeah,’ he says, then looks slightly like he’s waiting for some kind of fall out. But all that happens is Nathan replying,

‘Alright man.’

Then he turns around and walks off, whistling. Simon watching him go.

 

_STEP SEVEN: get drunk_

 

They don’t end up at a bar or anything fancy, just sit up on Nathan’s ‘mattress,’ after community service with a couple of six packs of stolen beer and music playing in the background from Nathan’s ipod. The whole setup feels vaguely fucking familiar, except he’s not playing careless whisper or any of that shit, he put his ipod on shuffle and it’s been a string of Lady Gaga off the playlist Kelly made for him. And this time Simon isn’t scooting away everytime Nathan moves closer, isn’t jumpy and concerned. He’s leaning over the metal rungs with a beer cradled in both hands instead, worrying the label.

‘Feels like deja vu,’ he says, smiling crookedly.

‘I know.’ Nathan stretches out beside him, hooking his legs over the rungs and grins up at Simon. ‘Tell me more about your battlestar galactica box set, Barry,’ he says, voice low, then licks his hand and mimes rubbing his crotch vigorously. Simon splutters into his drink; Nathan snickers.

‘I haven’t watched it yet. Got a bit… busy.’

‘Busy fending off my meaty cock,’ Nathan nods, ‘I understand.’

‘Busy saving _you_ ,’ Simon mumbles, the beer already kicking in.

‘Yeah, cheers man.’ Nathan clinks his bottle against Simon’s.  

An hour and three and a half beers later, Simon turns around to look a little to the left of Nathan,  and says,

‘This isn’t a joke, is it? You’re not… fucking with me.’

Nathan sighs. ‘Barry. Man. How long have I been expertly courting you?’

Simon considers. ‘A bit over a week.’

‘Right. Now, do I seem like the long-con sort to you? No!’ he says, before Simon can respond, ‘Because fuck that, right? All the preparation and forethought… not my style, mate. So, considering how vigilantly I’ve been keepin’ this up, either you can assume I’m just really dedicated to fuckin’ with you, or you can stop being a pussy and - ’

‘Ok.’ Simon is smiling again; he scoots a little way back from the metal grates and faces Nathan fully. ‘I believe you.’

‘Well, about time.’ Nathan waves a hand at him.

Simon shrugs. ‘It’s your fault.’

‘How is it my fault? I’m honest to the last, my friend. Honest and… and noble.’

They’re both smirking at this point, and Nathan nods.  

‘Alright, it might be my fault.’

Simon is outright grinning now. ‘You’re a twat,’ he says. Nathan shrugs.

‘I prefer lovable scoundrel.’

They both take another swig of beer and Simon’s smile fades slightly. This time he’s looking directly at Nathan when he says, all vulnerable and wide-eyed.

‘You like me.’

Nathan puts the beer bottle down. He unhooks his legs and pushes up off his elbows until he’s kneeling next to Simon. Then he grips the front of Simon’s button up - wonders briefly if Simon owns any clothes that don’t look like they came straight from the wardrobe of an accountant with a tentacle fetish - pulls him close enough to kiss. And does just that.

It’s the second time they’ve kissed in as many days, but this is different. Better. Better because instead of lasting only a moment, it stretches out. Better because Simon isn’t pliant but unresponsive, he’s got his hands on Nathan’s shoulders and is kissing him back - albeit tentatively. Nathan pulls away.

‘I thought you were going to stop being a pussy.’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘I _mean_ cut out the gentle smooching and start tongue fucking my mouth, you freak. I know you’re a pervert. I’ve accepted that. So no holdin’ back.’

‘I’m not a -’

Nathan shuts him up pretty easily.

 

_STEP EIGHT: that sweet sweet shag_

 

Simon’s a fast learner. A fact that shouldn’t surprise Nathan really, given how quickly he took to murder and the subsequent body-hiding, but it’s still a little intimidating that within a week Nathan finds himself going white-hazy from lack of oxygen as Simon runs his tongue smoothly along the roof of Nathan’s mouth. They’re pressed against one of the lockers in the community centre, Simon’s hands on the bare skin of Nathan’s sides, having unzipped his jumpsuit and Nathan has himself all but wrapped around Simon like some kind of lanky octopus, palming Simon’s cock with one hand.      

‘Oi!’

They separate. In an attempt to get as far away from Nathan as possible, Simon pushes off the locker and trips over the leg Nathan still has hitched over him, ending up reeling backwards before he regains his balance and comes to a halt. Nathan smirks at Kelly over Simon’s shoulder.  

‘That was rude,’ he says. ‘Can’t you see we’re busy?’

‘You’re on _my_ locker,’ Kelly says, shoving him out the way. ‘If you’re gonna shag, yeah, do it somewhere else.’

Simon swallows. ‘How’s your nose?’ he asks, managing to sound pretty collected despite the line of sweat on his temple and the evident reddening of his mouth. Nathan zips his jumpsuit back up, slings his arm over Simon’s shoulder.  

‘S’alright. I had to get stitches though, the bastard.’ Kelly taps the bandage on her face lightly. ‘It was a real trick tellin’ Mum what happened. I couldn’t think of anythin’, ended up just sayin’ I got drunk n’ fell on my arse a couple of nights ago.’

‘That’s better than tryin’ to sell the old, ‘a man who thought his whole life was a video game did it'.’

Kelly widens her eyes in agreement, then winces. ‘Said it might leave a scar. The doctor.’

Nathan whistles. ‘Cool.’  

‘Does it hurt much?’

‘Yeah, but I got some pain killers.’ Kelly gives them both a small smile, evidently the best she can manage without pulling the stitches. ‘C’mon. We got shit to clean, I’ll bet.’

‘We’ll catch up with ya,’ Nathan says, gripping Simon’s collar. Kelly rolls her eyes and beats a hasty retreat, leaving them alone again in the locker room. Nathan looks at Simon. ‘So, are you finally gonna stick your cock in me tonight or what?’

Because that’s the thing. As much as Simon’s making out ability and confidence have improved, he always somehow ends up drawing the line at getting their actual dicks out. It’s the longest lasting foreplay Nathan’s ever been a part of to be honest, because even old faithful isn’t helping quite as well as usual. Knocking one out alone is never as satisfying when you know you _could instead_ be getting sucked off by the invisible cunt who might be your boyfriend. But Simon is still behaving like a catholic school girl before the repression turns kinky - wary of the whole thing. The most they’ve managed to do is dry hump their way through a good portion of Nathan’s trousers.

‘Even just hand stuff,’ Nathan says, giving Simon a friendly squeeze. Simon’s breath hitches.

‘M-maybe,’ he says. Nathan shrugs.

‘Good enough for me.’      

 

+

 

Simon stays after community service that evening, the two of them retreating to Nathan’s ‘bedroom.’ There’s some talking and kissing and eventually Nathan is lying on his back, with Simon hovering over him, looking anxious.

‘So?’ Nathan says. His breath keeps sticking in his chest; he pushes himself up on his elbows. ‘Are we doin’ this?’

Simon worries his fringe for a moment, then sits back on his heels, away from Nathan.

‘Barry,’ Nathan says, following him up, ‘is this a performance issue? Because I promise, if you fuck like you kiss we will not have a problem.’

‘It’s not that.’ Simon blinks that way he does, like he’s closing his eyes against a bright light. ‘I need you to be sure,’ he says.

‘Sure about wanting you to fuck me?’

Simon nods, earnest as ever. Nathan rolls his eyes.

‘Barry, man, when have I ever _not_ been up for a shag?’ But if he thinks that’s going to reassure Simon, he’s wrong. Instead, Simon leans forward and grips Nathan’s arm. Not tight. Just unrelenting.

‘Never,’ he admits. ‘But I don’t want to just… assume.’    

It’s oddly flattering. No one’s ever been so insistent on getting Nathan’s explicit, vocal consent before any kind of sexual encounter - normally the assumption is that because it’s him, he’s always raring to go, and most of the time that’s true. But there’s something about Simon watching so intensely, looking almost distressed, that makes Nathan nod, even reply with as much sincerity as he can muster.

‘Sure, man.’     

‘You’ll tell me if you want to stop, or if you’re uncomfortable?’ Simon presses.

‘Christ, who’s the virgin here? Yeah, I’ll tell you. And you’ll tell me.’ Nathan throws his mind around for a second. ‘We can have one of those safe words they use, yeah?’

‘Ok.’ Simon agrees; Nathan can see him warming up to the idea. ‘How about -’

‘Melonfucker,’ Nathan says before Simon can finish. Simon’s lip curls up at that, he nods.

‘Melonfucker.’  

‘Yep. And now that we’ve got all that out the way, will you, _pretty please_ fuck me?’

Simon swallows, then shifts forward and straddles Nathan’s hips. He looks an interesting mixture of determined and anxious as he comes back down, presses his mouth to Nathan’s. It’s cute, cards on the table, and Nathan lowers them both onto the ground, hooking an arm around Simon’s neck. Even from this angle he can feel the slight tension in Simon’s back. So he goes for an ice breaker. Moving around until Simon is on the bottom, Nathan reaches down and unbuttons Simon’s jeans, rubs the outline of his cock through the fabric of his underwear encouragingly. Simon is lying on the shitty mattress, his hands gripping Nathan’s sheets as Nathan pulls his cock out into the open and marvels at it.

‘Packin’ heat, Barry!’ He grins, wolfish. And then he licks all the way up once, experimentally, and takes as much of Simon into his mouth as he can. It’s not like it’s his first time giving a blowie, and from the aborted, choked little noises Simon is making above him he hasn’t lost any of his talents to underuse, working up and down, cupping the balls because lord knows he’s had his testes neglected on more than one occasion, and Nathan is nothing if not a giver. When he pulls up, lips making an obnoxious ‘pop’ing noise, Simon lifts his head to stare at Nathan. His eyes are hazy, there’s a distinct line of red across his cheeks and creeping up his neck.

‘Much better,’ Nathan says, and shimmys his way up Simon’s wiry chest to thrust his tongue into his mouth. Simon responds in kind, pleasantly surprising Nathan by scrabbling at the zipper of Nathan’s jeans while Simon’s tongue methodically debauches his mouth. Condoms are produced from a pocket as well as a bottle of lube, they break apart in order to fully strip down and then come back together, Simon running a finger over Nathan’s hip, Nathan working the condom down over Simon’s cock and lathering it generously. For a moment the uncertainty washes back over Simon’s face as they lie there together, panting, and he seems to be considering the reality of finally sticking that prick of his somewhere other than between two couch cushions, so Nathan kisses him, softly, and guides Simon’s hand into place.  

‘Gimme the good stuff, big boy,’ he says, waggling his eyebrows. Simon laughs, wide and loud and shocked, and Nathan grins.

Neither of them last much longer. After Simon has worked three fingers in up to the knuckle and the grin has been thoroughly removed from Nathan’s face, after Simon has pressed himself inside and they’re crushed together, after Nathan’s jaw goes slack from Simon’s tentative movements, they finish within moments. Nathan comes first, hips stuttering, and Simon, leaning over him, laughs again, this time at the sight of Nathan’s face, only his laughter is cut short when Nathan clenches around him in retaliation. And then when they’re done, they lie on Nathan’s soiled mattress and laugh some more.        

 

_STEP NINE: change the future-past_

 

It’s not like they try to keep the shift in their relationship secret. Nathan isn’t exactly subtle at the best of times, and despite what Curtis had said the first time he walked in on them kissing, Simon liking Nathan pales in comparison to his arsonistic tendencies and brief stint in an asylum as far as shocking revelations go. So there isn’t much fear from either of them about rejection from the others, or shame as far as sexuality, it’s more that apart from the occasional snog (slightly more than occasional, but still), their interactions during community service remain pretty much the same. Which could be why Alisha doesn’t seem to twig, not until she walks in on them in one of the many smaller rooms of the community centre almost two weeks after the tattoo incident.      

‘What the fuck?’ she says, gaping at Simon and Nathan with their hands down each others pants. ‘What the _fuck?_ ’

Simon pulls his hands away, quickly.

‘Try knocking next time, love,’ Nathan says. Simon flushes, tries not to smile. But Alisha, instead of reacting like Kelly -  groaning, trying a little bit not to laugh, or Curtis - wrinkling his nose and backing out of the room, stares at them in what appears to be genuine anguish before her expression hardens and she slams the door on her way out. Nathan blinks.

‘What was that about?’ he says, then turns back to the situation at hand. But Simon maintains the distance Nathan is trying to close, looking his standard combination of worried and earnest.

‘She’s been acting kind of strange recently,’ he says, gazing at the closed door. ‘She keeps talking to me. More than she used to.’

‘Maybe she’s heard the reviews and wants to take a spin on your top?’   

Simon smooths his hair down, and Nathan musses it up again.

‘I think I should talk to her,’ Simon says. His jaw is set. It’s the same expression he pulls when he’s made his mind up about something, and when he’s about to insert the head of his cock into Nathan’s ass, Nathan thinks wistfully.  But there’s something to be said for how much his kind-of boyfriend cares about a group of shitheads who would have taken or left him mere weeks ago. It’s a dogged, unwavering loyalty that none of them deserve; that makes Nathan ache a little, deep in his chest.

‘Right,’ he says. Simon looks at him, then leaves.  

Almost six hours later, Nathan glances away from the police officer and spots Simon standing in the doorway of the community centre looking comically terrified. The officer, a woman named Marge Johnson, takes down Curtis’ final few words and turns to Nathan.

‘Anythin’ to add?’ she asks. Nathan licks his lips.

‘You’re a beautiful woman,’ he says.

Marge raises her eyebrows. ‘Alright, well, that should be all then. If we need anythin’ else we’ll give you a call - but this one’s pretty much in the bag. Have a good night, gentleman.’

‘Thanks,’ Curtis says.

‘Bye,’ says Nathan. ‘Love you.’

He dodges out of the way as Curtis aims a kick at him, Marge gives him a _look_ over her shoulder as she and the other police officers make their way out of the community centre. They pass Simon as they go, who’s still there. His eyes are at their widest, like giant glossy marbles, and he looks all kinds of clenched. Nathan jogs over to him.

‘What happened?’ Simon asks instantly. ‘Why were the police here?’

‘They found the bodies,’ Nathan says, pitching his voice as low as possible and gripping Simon’s shirt collar.

‘What?’ Simon’s expression changes from terror to horror. ‘How?’

Nathan holds his gaze for a few beats, then he grins and straightens up.

‘Nah, I’m just jokin’. Curtis and I found some nutter who murdered this guy, all because he wanted to give his daughter a poke, can you believe it?’

Simon glares, the effect somewhat marred by the significant release of tension in his shoulders. ‘You’re a twat.’

‘Aren’t I just.’ Nathan shrugs. ‘But how superhero is that, right? Catching a murderer, turnin’ him over to the police… are you incredibly turned on by this show of justice?’

‘No,’ says Simon. Then he softens slightly. ‘What happened?’

‘I was just watchin’ some nature docco, right, and next thing I know I’m walkin’ to the bathroom to take a piss and this guy just falls out of the toilet with his neck all fucked! So I called everyone, and Curtis was the only one who picked up - he came over to check it out and we caught the old guy cleaning up after himself.’ Nathan shrugs. ‘Then he chased us around a bit until we heroically overpowered him.’

‘I locked him in a closet,’ Curtis says, approaching them. He bumps Nathan’s shoulder. ‘I gotta go.’

‘Later,’ Nathan says, and Simon says,

‘Bye.’     

‘So.’ Nathan turns to Simon. ‘What happened with Alisha?’

Simon swallows. ‘Do you remember that superhoodie guy?’

‘Yeah, ‘course.’

‘Apparently he was me from the future. And Alisha was in love with him.’   

 

+

 

The next day Nathan corners Alisha while they’re picking up litter. She doesn’t look surprised, or nearly as upset as the last time he’d seen her - just slightly resigned.

‘Alright,’ she says when he approaches. ‘Let’s get this over with.’ But he can see the slight smear to her mascara. Of all of them, Alisha’s the one he’s had the least to do with, and now it turns out she’s his boyfriends future ex. Or something.

‘You shagged Barry?’ he says, by way of starting them off. Alisha crosses her arms.

‘So did you.’

‘Yeah, but I always thought you had a little more taste than I do.’

The corner of her mouth lifts slightly. Nathan sits down next to her on the bench.

‘He kept saying that they were the same person,’ she says after a moment. ‘My Simon. He and… this Simon, they were the same. That I had to love him, and that would make him _become_ my Simon.’

‘That sounds like a load of bollocks, if I’m bein’ honest.’

Alisha scowls. ‘He said we fell in love,’ she snaps. ‘He said - he said it all had to happen, exactly like it happened. So we could be together. And Simon could become… future Simon.’ Then she slumps against the bench. ‘I thought I’d done something wrong. Like, messed it all up. Because I didn’t believe him, that this Simon could become him. And that was why you two were going together. But Simon - regular Simon - said he doesn’t think it works like that.’ She sighs. ‘We talked for like two hours yesterday, and I kept thinking - this is the most I’ve ever spoken to him. This Simon. Regular Simon. And I’m supposed to fall in love with him? But Simon said that you shouldn’t love someone for who they _could_ be. You love them for who they are - some bullshit like that.’ Alisha laughs, wipes her eyes. ‘And then he, like, apologised for what Future Simon had done and said. And told me he wasn’t him, and that he would never be him, and that he was sorry I’d been hurt. Can you fucking believe that?’ she shakes her head. ‘Fucking hell.’

Nathan clears his throat, and Alisha smirks.

‘I think this is the longest you’ve ever gone without talking,’ she says. Her eye makeup is properly smudged now, there’s a dark streak down her cheek. ‘It’s weird.’

‘I’m not a big fan either.’ Nathan stretches out a little bit on the bench. He glances at Alisha and then up at the sky. ‘And Future Barry sounds like a right wanker.’ He can see out of the corner of his eye Alisha opening her mouth to argue, to no doubt defend her weird time-travelling, now dead boyfriend, but all she says is,

‘He could touch me.’

Nathan nods. Simon had mentioned that the other night. He’d been gazing off into the distance as he said it, looking vaguely disgusted.

‘He was the only person who could,’ he’d said. ‘She hasn’t been… in months. And he knew that. He… he _used_ her loneliness to -’    

Alisha gets to her feet. ‘Nothing to say?’ she asks, sardonic. ‘That’s not like you.’

Nathan shrugs; follows Alisha’s lead in standing up. He can count the times he’s said this on one hand - said it with any amount of sincerity, anyway. But Alisha is weirdly, uncomfortably familiar, all spikes and sex and larger-than-life, and he doesn’t have anything else to offer her in this fucked up mess of a situation. So he says,

‘I’m sorry.’ And then he walks away.   

 

_STEP TEN: move in with a gobby pregnant welsh chick_

 

‘Y’know, if we _had_ ended up becomin’ famous and all that shit, we would have been able to afford a bigger apartment.’

Simon frowns. ‘You were brain dead and I was… dead dead.’

‘Still.’

‘I dunno if him being brain dead would make much of a difference,’ Alisha says, dumping the box labelled ‘pillows,’ on the floor. Kelly, Curtis and Nikki all snicker, Nathan flips her the V.

‘I like this place, anyway,’ Marnie says from the couch. ‘Much better than the community centre.’

They all have to agree on that, at least. But then again, as Nathan says later, a hole would be better than the community centre. They all agree on that, too.

 

+

 

It works out that after community service ends, nothing much changes for any of them until Alisha finds a spray-painted sign advertising some prick who buys and sells powers. She comes back the next day and they all revel in it, even Nathan getting in a hug before he opens his mouth and Alisha pushes him off with her bare hands on his wrists - only a couple of days later he walks into the changing room of the community centre to find a heavily pregnant girl being felt up by Jesus - and from the expression on her face when they seperate it’s clear she isn’t just wildly turned on by scripture. And then the _next_ day, in the bar, some twiggy bloke comes in guns out and demands they give him all the money they have. Nathan is killed again, no big deal, because he won’t give up the five pound note he found and wanted to give to the pregnant girl so she could afford a night in the shelter, but his blood gets all over Nikki’s favourite jumper; she sells her power too.  

They kill Jesus. The pregnant girl, Marnie, has her baby in the community centre; they find a locker stuffed with stolen or donated cash and Nathan and Marnie take it as reparations for emotional damage suffered due to death and sexual assault. Nathan suggests they use it to get a flat together.    

He says that maybe Simon should move in too, because he’s still at home with his parents and he doesn’t want to live out _that_ stereotype. Simon smirks and says he’ll think about it.

They move into a two bedroom apartment nine days later. Marnie breastfeeds in the living room and has long conversations in Welsh over the phone; Simon picks up a camera for the first time in months and starts taking photographs again; Nathan is almost always naked except for the pair of woolen socks his mum gave him for Christmas because he’s never had very good circulation in his feet.

Simon tells Nathan one day that maybe he jumped the gun saying community service was the best time of his life. Nathan calls him a pussy.     

 

_STEP ELEVEN: [intentionally left blank]_

 

When Alisha comes over, Nikki is sitting on the couch with Nathan Jr. and Kelly, watching the _Evil Dead II_ with subtitles on, and Marnie is heating water on the stove.

It’s been almost two months since Nathan and Simon moved in with Marnie, and in that time they’ve all made the natural progression of hanging out at the flat - aided by that week when Nathan was banned from the bar. It’s nice, three rooms and a bathroom; a little cramped sometimes, but they make do. The only problem that’s arisen so far happened a few weeks ago when Alisha had finished a shift at the bar and come up, let herself in, only to see a string of polaroid pictures strung across the wall. She had to go and smoke on the roof for a long time until eventually Simon had found her there, worried that she hadn’t turned up when she said she would. He’d known almost as soon as he saw her face, something she was grateful for. He’d seen the other polaroids, after all. It took a while before she was able to redecorate.

‘I’m sorry,’ he’d said again.  

‘It’s ok.’ She’d wiped her cheek and ashed on the concrete roof. ‘Just surprised me, is all.’

‘I can take them down if -’

‘Nah, leave it.’ She’d turned around to face him, then. Looked him straight in the face - she used to know that face so well. But Simon had been right when he’d said he’d never become Him. ‘Honestly. It’s fine.’ She’d tried for a smile. Simon grimaced back. Then they’d gone back downstairs to find Nathan cooking his surprisingly tasty pasta sauce, and Alisha had stared at the polaroid of herself on the wall, laughing in the photo, and seen the love in the shot - love that wasn’t the kind she wanted from Simon. Used to want.

‘It’s a nice picture,’ she’d said, and Simon had ducked his head.

‘Thanks,’ he’d said.

Now there are far more polaroids stretching all across the wall, and Alisha barely spares them a glance as she closes the door, moves into the apartment.

‘Hiya,’ she says to the room at large. Nikki guides Nathan Jr.’s chubby fists in a waving motion; Marnie beams at her over the kitchen bench.

‘Hi.’

‘Where’re the others? I know Curtis is workin’ tonight.’

‘They’re in their room,’ Kelly says, not looking up from the screen.

‘Shagging,’ Marnie adds, helpfully. At that precise moment, there’s a lull on screen, and all of them hear Nathan cackling through the bedroom door. Alisha raises an eyebrow.

‘Doesn’t sound like they’re shagging.’

Marnie widens her eyes - they’re big enough to rival Simon’s, Alisha thinks briefly - and winces.

‘Trust me,’ she says. ‘They are.’

Alisha smirks a little despite herself.

‘Alright,’ she says. Sits down on the other side of the kitchen bench. Marnie reaches across the bench and gives her hand a little pat, Alisha can hear Nikki and Kelly making noises at Nathan Jr. The air smells like baby powder and nothing is how she’d pictured it, all those months ago, when her Simon had told her about the future and what it would be like. It had sounded almost perfect. But maybe this is better.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope i did these asshole justice. please let me know if i didn't


End file.
